On the road again

Alison has been flying since before she emerged into the world and is highly anxious to rid herself of the escort service we pay for when she solos to Maine for the summer.

It's not going to happen until the airlines bring back the direct flight to Portland. Or until she's 18. 

Of course she kind of thinks she IS 18. 

But then you find her with Pink Bunny in the morning or in a skirt and Converse playing soccer at a street fair. 

I think I like her better with the bunny and/or sneakers.

She had a great time with Team Reed Maine at Jen & Peter's camp. Word on the street is that she's a much better paddle boarder than her Uncle James. 

As you can see from Auntie Jen's photoshoot, it was Hell Week in Maine. On her last morning, Jen left Peter in charge and went off for a walk. She comes back to find Peter in the house but no Alison anywhere in sight. "Where's Ali?"

Pete, with all the nonchalance of a veteran father and grandfather, says, "She went out to paddle board right after you left."

Jennnifer looks at her watch then her husband and says, "That was 45 minutes ago!" 

She dashes out the door to scan the lake and sure enough Ali was out there wringing out the last bits of summer-in-Maine. 

No wonder she didn't want to come home. Next week it's more of the same, but with an Indiana flavor. She'll be at Flat Rock River Camp with Jenna and Bre.

It's a hard life for Alison Reed. She gets back to face another few weeks of summer school, but it's her PE class, so don't feel too sorry for her. Jeff and I will resume our culinary explorations while she's gone.

We'll all be sorry to see summer end.  The last shot is of Ali saying goodbye to Jen's lake.

Diamonds in the Sky

For many years, Jeff and I and then Jeff and Ali and I would spend the Fourth of July in Columbus, Indiana, where Jeff and my uncles would blow stuff up and act for all the world like they were each 12-years-old.

We stopped going there when civilization had so encroached on Uncle Larry's property that his fear of setting a neighbor's house ablaze overcame his delight in the fire in the sky.

Aunt Shirley would invite their friends and a few of the neighbors. Uncle Ed, Aunt Joan and my cousin Beth and her family were always there. Aunt Shirley's cousin Jimmy usually drove over. He was more a spectator than firestarter, though.

As the kids got older, they were allowed to help, under the Captain's supervision. One year Uncle Ed devoted some weeks to constructing an elaborate set up that would allow him to wire dozens of bottle rocks or some such blow-up items so they'd go off in one, long kaleidiscope of color and noise and smoke. I can't remember if that's the year a rocket went wonky and almost set Beth's hair on fire. 

Sure it wouldn't have been funny had she gone up in smoke, but she didn't, so it was hilarious. Other the birdbath, which Jeff decapitated in a rush to avoid a similar catastrophe one year, there were never any serious injuries.

It was hell on the ears, both human and canine. But the kids -- gray hair and curls just coming in -- loved it.

The next day, Uncle Ed would go drag Christopher and Cory Lehman (Beth's boys) out of bed and make them comb through Uncle Larry's yard to clean up debris. It was the least they could do, he'd say. He always volunteered them before everyone had trotted off for the night. I'm not sure they were happy janitors but Uncle Ed was a fabulous uncle and an even better Grandpa, I suspect. Anytime spent with him would have been pretty special.

Both he and Aunt Joan are gone now, but I think of them throughout the year and always on the Fourth. The sound of Uncle Ed and Larry's giggling in the dark will be forever with me. Especially as I still have Jeff and he titters like a little girl at just the thought of getting to blow stuff up.

Since the moratorium on the Columbus fireworks, we've been traveling back home for several years, blowing stuff up in the country, generally with a few volunteer fire department folks in attendance. This  year, though, Alison is home only for a day from her week with Auntie Jen and Uncle Peter in Maine before she goes to Flat Rock River Camp.

So we opted for blowing stuff up at the local park. Jeff primed our favorite retail firebug, Tom Vielee, with alcoholic root beer and bourbon, to restock his firework supplies. Our friends, the Jansens down the street, and Team Ogden contributed some firey goodness as well.

We drew a fairly nice crowd and Jeff got lots of oohs and aahs. Once, when he didn't get what he felt was his due, we heard, "Hey, where's my audience?" 

"It's just like the Christmas CD," Karin stage whispered to Kirsten Jasheway. "If you don't show the proper appreciation you might get taken off the list."

So back to the oohing and aahing we went.

This morning, chock full of the spirit of Uncle Ed, Ali and Jeff went back to the park to clean up. I joined them a bit later. We got a lot, but might not have gotten all the debris. Especially any that rained down on the neighborhood across the Monon. But I figure that's the price of admission for anyone who enjoyed the unexpected show.

As for those not pleased? Well. I don't know who was making such a blasted commotion at Canterbury Park last night. 

Culinary Adventures Part 2

With Alison gone for the week, Jeff and I have been exploring the city looking for great food within walking distance of either home or work. In addition to the walkable rule, we can't have had already had a meal at the establishment.

We violated the walkable rule with a day trip to Jungle Jim's in Cincinatti with a side trip to Rooster's there. Also, we drove to the Lincoln Square Pancake house over lunch -- which we've been to before but that was a date set with Chris Austin before our other rules were established. 

By happy accident so far, we haven't yet spent more than $50 for any of our meals. The asterisk is that it really was an accident caused mostly by either snacking/drinking at home before we made it to the restaurant.

We discussed the North End BBQ  already and the leftovers meal at home Saturday.

Sunday was Roosters. I won't cross the road for wings, but we were on the Cincy trip with Team Jasheway and Duane and Jeff love their chicken wings. And beer. It was worth stopping, but I wouldn't drive two hours for it. Both Jeff and Duane would, I suspect.

The only real disappointment was that our waitress couldn't explain what the "Donkey" sauce was. "We get that question a lot," said Brittany. Despite the prevalence of the question, she wasn't curious enough to figure it out. We assume it has a kick, a revelation that came about only on the way home.

Jungle Jim is a huge grocery store with more beer, wine, cheese and olives than anyone needs. There's a section for every nationality you can think of and stuff I'm not sure was really food.  I'm fairly certain the US Marines could be fed for a few years before the place would run out of foodstuffs. 

On Monday, we went to Twenty Tap, which we've been planning to go to for the year or so it's been operating up the street from our house. A-MAY-zing shrimp and grits. Jeff had a beer, of course. There are tons of them to choose from. He had a Reuben, which he said was better than my meal. As he's not a fan of grits, he's not qualified to judge. I win.

Tuesday found us at the movies where we had drinks at home to prepare then diet popcorn and bits of coconut dark chocolate bark from Jungle Jims that we smuggled in. Yeah. Not our finest culinary experience. But it paired well with Ted2. I DO recommend the chocolate.

Wednesday I had a work outing to the Indianapolis Indians game so I was kind of wiped before I got home. I had a black bean burger, peanuts and a beer at the game. I'd meant to have my standard chocolate ice cream cone but the machine malfunctioned and I ended up with about 1/2 gallon in a cup. Not a wasteful person, I felt compelled to finish most of it. Indians won 2-1.

Dinner was at Ambrosia, outside. Neither of us was super hungry so we skipped appetizers. The bread was great though, and my ravioli was super good. Jeff had Rustico (I think) penne pasta with sausage. It was the spicy opposite of my pillows of creamy spinach goodness. We switched plates about 3/4 through the meal.  Perfection.

Today, Jeff and I met our friend Chris Austin for pancakes. Chris and I work together and had gotten into an IHOP pancake habit. Jeff joins us when we can get it together. It's always fun. 

Dinner tonight was a triumph. Indy Tacos -- a newish, authentic Mexican place on 54th Street just west of Keystone. It will be on our favorite dive list for the rest of our lives. Corn tortillas that brought us back to our days of old Cancun with Eric and Tracy. It's not fancy. But the tacos are fabulous.  Dinner rang up at $17 and it was too much food. 

It helped that we'd shared guacamole and mojjitos at home made with mint and cilantro from the Angie's List garden.  But really. It's a great low-key place if you like authentic tacos.

I'm going to have to eat nothing but from the AL garden or start working out harder if I'm going to make it through Alison's time away from us and still be able to wear my clothes. I should probably stop letting her have a life away from us.

Speaking of Alison, while away at camp with Auntie Jen, she prepared lobster tail, her famous spicy zuchinni and rice for Grandpa and Uncle Peter (and Jen) as a late Fathers Day treat. Grandpa declared it wonderful. I wonder where she gets this taste for great food?

Culinary Adventures 2015

Alison should be waking up about now at Auntie Jen and Uncle Peter's lake house. If she's lucky, it'll be a dog kiss that will bring her out of her slumber.

She was done with us the minute we got into the car to drive her to the airport, seething with all the fervor she wore when she was two and learning to master tasks like tying her shoes or putting on her own ketchup. "I can DO this!" she'd insist as the ketchup poured over the plate and the string refused to stay snug.

So we left her there at the gate where she still had 30 minutes left til boarding. Kisses and hugs, sure, but she was ready to be doing it on her own.

She even dutifully checked in along the way and we have a sweet shot of her and Nicodemus, both too sleepy to do much than nudge each other. (Thanks, Jen.)

So,  childless, we set off on our annual quest to try new restaurants.

For lunch it was The North End BBQ at 1250 E. 86th Street.  We'd been meaning to get there but we always think of it late. It's smallish and fills up fast. Now we know why.

It's a contender for best fries in town. I had a salad and collard greens -- an odd combination but the waitress said it was vinegar-y and that made me think of my grandma's spinach, so I had to try it. Jeff had a pulled pork sandwich and jalepeno fries with a Taxman Blonde Abbey Ale.

Still struggling with that extra 10 pounds, I stuck to tea and water, but sampled his.

Every bit, including the service,  was stupendous. They play a lot of Johnny Cash, too.

At one point, Jeff asked me if I would come back. Through my veggies, I mumbled, "I'd come back tonight."

We got out of there for about $40 and will be back for dinner with Alison, who's a huge rib fan.

Dinner last night was intended to be a walk into Broad Ripple or SoBro. Instead, Team Jasheway came over with all sorts of cheese and sausage -- chorizo with something extra and elk with blueberry -- so we pulled out all our leftovers and just grazed all night.

Jeff made mojitos for Kirsten and me but he and Duane sampled craft beers and ended with Sazeracs. Oh, and the chocolate shake with Skinny chocolate espresso syrup,  Hershey's syrup, Crave chocolate liquer, creme de cacao, coconut rum, chocolate ice cream and skim milk.

For leftovers and "what do we have in the fridge" it kind of rivaled our lunch.

Today we're trekking to Jungle Jim's in Cincinnati. If I don't show up at work it's because we're still lost somewhere in there. I'm confident we'll eventually eat our way out.

  

"Hey, Dad. What's a clitoris?"

Yes, that was a real question Alison asked her father last week at the Pride Parade.

The question is a fabulous illustration of their relationship. The answer is what makes Jeff Reed a great dad, a great partner and an all around terrific person.

Some dads would shudder, start dripping sweat, look desperately around for the first female they could find and shove the kid in that general direction stuttering something like, "Uh, hey, I think I smell smoke. And I think you're mother's calling. Better go find her."

But much like the Grinch on Christmas Day surrounded by Whoovillians, Jeff Reed's heart grew three sizes. And he answered her.  "Huh," she said. "OK."

And that was that. 

I feel compelled, on behalf of all fun-loving women, to interject here that if you you are in a relationship with a female and don't know the answer to Alison's question, you should stop reading this missive and get yourself to the interwebs right now. Your partner will thank you.

Does what inspired Alison to ask the question matter?  Not really. Sure, we were surrounded by a fairly provocative crowd, but it was a joyful gathering and a great demonstration of a bunch of silly, happy people just pleased to be able to showcase their true selves. We should all be so free more often.

Alison, like every kid, has been asking questions for years that could drive a more traditional adult figure screaming in another direction. But we've always tried to hit them straight on, explaining as well as we could in age-appropriate words. It's not always been as easy as we hope our delivery has been.

She asked me what "the c-word" was once when I was driving and I almost wrecked the car as I wracked my brain coming up with that answer. Jeff has occasionally been surprised when she made references to things he didn't know she knew about. 

And yes, some of our friends and family think we should be more circumspect. 

As she gets older, the appropriateness is shifting, of course. But it's always been a philosophy that's worked for us.

In any event, it's Father's Day and Jeff is wallowing in the idea that even in her teen years, Alison will turn to him as easily as she turns to me for answers about body parts or boys. As he should. 

Ali presented him with a breakfast she'd made after forcing him to stay in bed to consume it.  "That girl is not a leader; she's just bossy," he fake-complained. I was just grateful he had pants on when she came in.

After he was allowed to emerge, she showered him with gifts, including a card she'd tailored with a drawing of him that included a bit of the salt she sees in his pepper-colored hair.  It's been a good morning and the day promises to just get more fun.

Now, is there anything YOU'D like to know? 

  

Pride Goeth before the Ball

Or in our case, before the ball game.  We had a super busy weekend that started with birthday shopping, then to being in a parade, parties, an art fair and finally a baseball game.

It was awesome. But so busy and full we might need an extension to the weekend.  That, or forgiveness for a sluggish Monday.

Highlights:

Seeing so many friends -- including Jeph Slaughter, Tim Joyce and a slew of Democratic (and even a few Libertarian) politicos at the Indy Gay Pride parade/festival.  Sure there were a few people who were a bit over the top, but the over-riding feeling at the events was just sheer happiness. Jeph walked with the Angie's List contingent in the parade and may have actually been the best ambassador for the 17-mile trek. 

It was a great day. Super fun. Maybe not 17 miles, but at least 17 miles of fun.

We split up from Ali that night for separate but equally fun birthday parties. 

We reunited Sunday to visit the Talbott Street Art Fair to see more friends, including Cindy & David Athey, and Karen Terrell and acquire more stuff.

Rain flirted with the sun, with the sun mostly winning out and nearly wiping us out at the ball field. But  the Indians prevailed and we finally got to rinse the stink off us and collapse wellbefore nightfall.

  

If this is a prelude to the Summer of 2015, I'm all in

Jefff and I got a text from Alison -- the Friday before she starts high school summer school -- not to bring anything home or make plans for dinner: she was making a romantic dinner for us.

What does it say about parents who read that text in their separate offices and immediately wondered what havoc she'd wrought, what sin she'd committed and how deep her prep for softening the blow of her confession would go.

It's possible we also wondered if it would be coconut shrimp from the freezer and mac-n-cheese with cupcakes for dessert.

It's also possible that we need to stop bracing ourselves for the terrible (INSERT YEAR) to start.

We started with caprese kabobs -- she used the remnants of an earlier appetizer and put her own little twist to it. Roma tomatoes quartered, skewered with basil and mozzarella, drizzled with mozzarella and sprinkled with fresh ground pepper.

The main course was baked, Asian-style chicken with mushroom caps stuffed with garlic, bread crumbs, provolone and parsley with a side of udon noodles with sesame oil & seeds, carrot and chives.

Dessert was a peach, halved and baked with brown sugar and butter, paired with scoops of vanilla ice cream.  She would have broken out a bottle of wine but said she thought she might get arrested for dabbling in alcohol.

This is her explaining "What I've prepared for you tonight...." (She's watched "Choppped" a time or two...)

Sure, she did all this in her underwear and hadn't brushed her hair all day, but hey: did your kid make you a restaurant-quality dinner Friday night?  I didn't think so.

To reward her, we had her help us paint the first coat on our new backyard shed on Saturday. We'd been planning to hire that job out, along with some other stuff. 

It's going to be an Angie's List kind of summer for us. We've already had great success with an electrical problem and a chimney issue using my fancy AL SnapFix app. The chimney thing was so easy that Jay, who fixed it, wouldn't charge me. I felt so bad about wasting his time that I asked him what he thought about a crack in the window box out front. 

Overr the years, there's been some water seepage, may due to that or other cracks. The west corner has a bigger issue, and all told, it's  the kind of thing that can lead to really terrible issues. Plus, the brick on our house isn't made anymore, so  it'll be a fairly expensive job. I no longer feel bad about the flue thing, and we'll be seeing a lot of Jay very soon, I expect.

Given the specter of the bricks, we thought we could paint the shed ourselves. Ali was excited at first. She was looking forward to ladder work and she liked picking out the paint at the store. A few hours in, her enthusiasm had waned a bit. And I have to admit that I was wondering what I'd been thinking when Jeff and I were discussing sizes and I'd insisted that we get the biggest on because even if we didn't NEED all that space, better to have more than we need than not enough and find ourselves still not able to park in the garage.

I kept that to myselve. The shed is nearly as big as our one-car garage. Something like 16x11x12. I'll love it again once the final coat has dried, I'm sure.

   

We ended the first day of the project with all but the bottom wood primed or painted.  Rain will move in tonight so we'll finish up when we have a dry spell in the forecast. (We were all a little bit thrilled by that news if were honest.

So that's been out weekend. We also welcomed (long-distance) a new member of the family. Ali will meet her cousin, Nicodemus, at the end of the month when she visits Team Reed Maine. 

It's good that it's a few weeks because she apparently needs some time to rest her petting arms so they work again. And I need a few more Friday dinners.